Face of an Angel Blood of a Demon
by Dedesan
Summary: Keith is a skilled shadowhunter with shady past and insane demon-slaying skills. Lance is an unsuspecting freshman who happened to be in the wrong place in the wrong place at the wrong time. They meet and everything spirals down to madness.


"Lance, I am not too sure about this. You know, it's not too late to order pizza and watch x-files."

Lance drew in a patient breath and turned to look at Hunk. His friend's eyes were clouded with worry as he glanced at the long buzzing, buoyant queue that had gathered outside the club's door. It was freshmen's week and the student union had been restlessly handing out free drink tickets and club event adverts from morning until afternoon. Every fresher would be in the club, enjoying their first of the many nights to come of independence and young adult wilderness. It was their chance to meet new people, flip over a new chapter.

"Hunk, we can eat pizza and watch x-files any time of the week. Look at these people…" the boy wildly gestured at the laughing, flushed-faced teens in front of them. They looked as if they had had an early start on the beverages, it was ridiculously easy to get alcohol here, even people under the age of twenty one had saw they had a fake ID tucked neatly into their wallets. Fake IDs were a basic college rule. Everyone knew it, no one cared. "…They are here to have fun, and meet new people. Come on, it's not like we'll get the chance to be freshers again. It wouldn't hurt to see some fresh faces, especially of the attractive kind" Lance suggestively wiggled his eyebrows, an impish grin spreading on his thin face.

Hunk rolled his eyes and awkwardly adjusted his weight from one foot to another. He wasn't wearing his usual khakis, and he looked rather uncomfortable in his new jeans that were a bit too tight on his rounded calves. "I get it, man. I am just kind of worried about you. Didn't the doctor say that you ought to stay home and rest…you know, keep your distance from big crowds, especially after what happened"

"I'll be fine" Lance's tone was more biting that he had liked to. He dismissively shook his head and revived his boyish smile. "Look, we'll just take a look at the people we'll be studying with for the rest of the year, get a drink to loosen up and leave. We don't have to stay until the club closes. We'll even have time to get pizza. Sounds like a deal, big guy?"

"Fine" Hunk gave in, and, in Lance's relief, a small confident smile flickered on his friend's face. "I guess a drink won't hurt anyone. But, if things get rough, you'll let me know, right?" Hunk gave him a look and it was Lance's turn to roll his eyes.

"Yes mom, can I have fun now?"

The queue had finally started thinning out and the closer they got to the door, the more deafening the music got. They could hear the heavy bass of whatever song the DJ played bursting out of the club, filling the otherwise empty street. The security guy was a big man with a balding head, sinking eyes and hung cheeks that made him look like bulldog, he seemed tired, as if he had had his fair share of youngsters for the night. He only gave but a short glance at Lance's and Hunk's fake IDs before absent-mindedly nodding and letting them in.

Booming music pulsed in their ears once they stepped into the tight-spaced club. In the dim lighting and dried ice, all Lance could see was bodies clumsily dancing and clinging to one another. He pushed his way in with Hunk following suit. They did their best to avoid stray elbows and people who waved open beer cans like flags over their heads, spilling the cans' insides on the hair of unsuspecting dancers.

"I am going to go get the drinks!" Hunk had to yell to be heard over the music.

"Great!" Lance yelled right back. "I am going to find where the babes are at!"

Lanced didn't see him do it, but he was certain that Hunk rolled his eyes.

The dance floor was packed, every single inch was preoccupied by shimmying limbs and Lance had to waddle his way through towards the right corner where the couches were. Despite the sudden rush of adrenaline and heat, it was one of those rare times which Lance felt safe among a crowd. It was like a moving blanket wrapped all around him, keeping him from harm. There were so many of them that Lance was invisible, just another body in a sea of hundreds. It was quite soothing to think that way.

He was on his way to claim one of the empty couches for himself and Hunk when he spotted him. He was dressed in black and casually leaning against the wall, a good distance away from the dance floor. His arms were tightly crossed in front of his chest and he seemed as if he were looking out for something. Lance wasn't exactly sure what drew him to the lone boy; perhaps it was because he was so desperately out of place, with his stern, perfectly still posture as if he was a guard dog instead of a jaunty teen out to have a good time. Maybe, it was those wicked, dark tattoos that peaked out from the hem of his short-sleeved shirt and cascaded all the way down to his hands. Either way, he was extremely attractive.

He headed towards the hot stranger, his top ten pick-up lines flashing behind his eyes as he approached him.

"Hey…" he drawled, smoothing out his voice. The distance from the dance floor muted the deafening music and Lance, gladly, did not have to shout.

The boy turned to look at him. He had beautiful eyes, a dark hue of a colour that Lance couldn't put his finger on due to the reflecting club lights. They were finely shaped and accompanied by expressive dark eyebrows that were currently knitted down in annoyance.

"Excuse me?" he cried, leaping back like a cat caught in surprise. Lance saw him staring him up and down as if he was genuinely shocked that he had noticed him.

"You are excused." Lance grinned, choosing to ignore the boy's peculiar antics. "So…what's a pretty boy like you doing hanging out in the background?"

"How can you see me?" the boy had narrowed his eyes now in, if Lance was not mistaken, suspicion? Was he on drugs? He didn't quite look like it.

"How can I NOT see you? You are pretty hot" Lance light-heartedly replied. "I just saw you hanging out all by yourself, thought you were cute and decided to come and see if you'd like some company"

The boy's eyebrows furrowed even further down, his nose scrunched (he had a very cute nose, Lance noted) as he carefully took a step closer to Lance.

"Have…have we met before?"

"No. Trust me…I would remember meeting you." Lance carried on, still using his special, flirtatious voice that was a couple of octaves deeper than his normal one.

"Are you a shadowhunter?"

A shadowhunter? What the hell was that? "Well, I don't know about shadow…but I certainly am a hunter." Lance wiggled his eyebrows. The boy seemed to regret asking him that question immediately. He took a step back, a cold expression now fixed on his pretty face. He clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Never mind then" he indicated in a biting tone. "Go bother someone else, your flirting sucks" he gave Lance a dismissing look before walking away.

He was just a random boy that Lance had only just met; the reasonably thing for him to was to just roll his eyes and move on. There were plenty of people to meet, plenty of people to flirt with. It was just hurtful being turned down in such a cutting way, even by a weirdo.

Lance frowned, irritated with himself. He was allowing a boy he had only just seen get him down. He shook his head and swallowed down the crushing feeling. It was just a boy and it wasn't like this was the first time he was turned down cold. Deep inside, he knew his puns were stupid, anyway.

The couches were almost fully occupied by mountains of jackets and coats or couples passionately sucking out each other's faces. But, Lance managed to find a clean spot at the back. He sat down, hoping that Hunk would spot him in all the havoc. It was kind of depressing, how he sat there, fully sober and alone when on the couch next to him a couple, boy and girl were ready to take things on the next level.

He nervously started tapping his foot on the floor. He shouldn't been feeling this agitated, not after he had assured Hunk that everything was alright. That he was okay. That he could do this. He'd better cheer up as soon as possible. Where the hell were those drinks?

"Hey"

A soft voice from his right side caused him to jump. Lance turned his head so fast that he felt his neck muscles tensing as they stretched. Next to him, was sitting a smiling boy. Lance wasn't sure if he hadn't spotted him before or if the boy had sneaked on the couch while he was brooding.

"Hi" he mouthed back, still startled.

He took a moment to take the boy in. He had a pretty face, like the strange guy from before. But whereas the tattooed boy had a tough, rough on the edges veneer, this guy's face was soft, laid-back and relaxed, tousled light curls embracing his round face like a halo. He calmly returned Lances' look, his smile widening.

"You seemed kind of…down the weather" the boy carried on talking. His voice was mellow and warm, and despite the music raging on in the background, it seemed to be the most prominent sound. "I saw you all alone, sitting still and pretty, thought you mind need some company"

"Yeah…" Lance drawled in a daze.

The boy chuckled. God, his laugh sounded just like those tiny Christmas bells his family hanged around the house during Christmas time, dainty and bright. "You are cute" the boy noted.

Lance felt his cheeks flushing. It felt almost absurd being called 'cute' by such an angelic face.

"Do you have a name to go with that cute face?"

"It's L-Lance" he stumbled on his words; it had been a while since Lance had been the target of a good-looking stranger's flirtatious attempts. It was usually he who initiated it.

"Can I buy you a drink, Lance?"

Drink…wait, wasn't Hunk supposed to be getting the drinks? Where was he? Shouldn't be here by now?

"Actually…my friend was supposed to get drinks. He should have been here by now" Lance diverted his attention back to the dance floor, squeezing his eyes in an attempt to spot Hunk among all these people.

"Hey" Lance felt a warm hand on his cheek, slowly forcing his eyes away from the dance floor. He found himself staring at the angel boy's startling eyes again. He felt a peculiar feeling at the pit of his stomach; an all too familiar warmth overwhelmed him, it felt as if he were sitting in his house, all cozied up in a blanket with a warm cocoa in hand.

"Don't worry. Your friend is fine."

Lance believed him. His voice was so soft yet convincing.

"It's getting a bit stuffy in here" The boy complained, lifting his free hand to tuck a curl behind his ear. Lance's fingers itched to reach out and touch his hair. It was probably as soft and smooth as silk, like his voice.

"I need some fresh air" this time his lanky fingers moved down to unbutton the front of his shirt, revealing a slender neck, pale in the dim lighting of the club. Lance was starting to get hot, too, now.

"Will you walk me out, Lance?"

He smiled at him and Lance couldn't seem to be able to look away.

"Sure" the answer dripped from his tongue unconsciously. He stood up, alongside with the boy. He took hold of Lance's hand and Lance felt his heart jolt into his chest, everything else seemed to fade away, the music, the dance floor, even his concern for Hunk's whereabouts. Lance's eyes were fixed on the back of the boy's curly head and before he realised it, he was led through the crowd outside the back door of the club.

The chilly September air hit his face and Lance shivered, roughly reminded of the fact that he had forgotten to bring a jacket with him. The boy let go of his hand, depriving him of his warmth. He looked around him; they were on the narrow alley right behind the club. It was where the club and the Chinese take away next door dumped their trash. It was dark, cold and he and the boy were the only ones in sight.

Lance was about to remark on the strange choice of 'fresh air', when he felt the softest pair of lips plastering against his own. Arms slithered around his waist, pushing him back against the cold, humid wall. The boy's warm body pressed against his, grinding his hips against Lance's pelvis as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into Lance's mouth.

Lance felt giddy, it did not matter how cold and disgusting the wall behind him felt, he had never been kissed like that, like he was the only living person in this world worth to be kissed. All those lukewarm kisses he had awkwardly shared in the past…this was different, strong and passionate and the boy knew exactly how to move his tongue and hands in rhythm.

He felt lightheaded, his surrounding fading away as he shut his eyes, indulging him in the moment. Suddenly, his knees started buckling like jelly and the dizziness begun making him more uncomfortable. He stirred in the boy's arms, but he kept kissing him…no he wasn't kissing him anymore, he was sucking him. Lance couldn't breathe, he tried to move away but the boy's hands were clung onto him like vice, keeping him in place. He moaned and tried to bite him but his whole face felt numb.

Cold, paralyzing fright crushed his chest. The boy's arms where the only things keeping him in place, his legs were useless, unable to move, it was as if his whole supply of energy was slowly being sucked out of him, black spots started flashing before his eyes. His lungs were ready to explode from the lack of oxygen; the black spots were getting larger and thicker. He was going to black out, all because he had been stupid enough to be lured by a pretty face.

Helplessly, he remained there, eyes wide in horror and waiting for his lungs to give up when suddenly, the swishing sound of a blade penetrated his ears. The boy cried out in pain and stumbled back. Lance collapsed on the street, his legs unable to hold his weight, his chest was puffing and his heart was pumping as his lungs hungrily breathed much needed air.

He averted his gaze and in his great horror, he saw the boy, the front of his shirt was splashed with blood, a nail-like blade stuck out of the centre of his chest. Lance felt panic rising like bile, he wanted to scream for help. But his mouth felt dry and the only thing that came out was a pathetic whimper.

"Fucking shadowhunter" the boy's voice was no longer soft and inviting. It was rough and hoarse and it echoed in the alley. With a jerk of his hand he plunged out the nail and threw it aside. "Where are you little shadowhunter?" his eyes were now glowing red, maliciously narrowed as he turned around, searching for someone, probably whoever had pierced him with that blade…something that should have killed him. Lance recoiled against the wall. This couldn't be happening to him. Had he been drugged? But how could he? He hadn't drunk a single drop.

"...what a pain in the ass, don't you know it's rude to disturb one's meal?" the boy growled. A black figure lunged out of the shadows and landed upon the boy who was knocked down on his back.

The black figure straightened up, a small black blade in his hands. Lance's eyes widened as he realised that his rescuer was the mysterious tattooed guy he had tried to unsuccessfully hit on in the club.

"Aw, there you are…" the boy staggered back onto his feet, his hands covering the right side of his face. Steam and a black tar-like substance oozed out from his wound. The boy lowered his hand and Lance's stomach turned. The tattooed guy had managed to slice the whole right side of his face, leaving a thick scar behind. On the periphery of the scar, the flesh was peeled back, like a banana leaf and the tar that kept seeping out of the wound burned the flesh away as if it were a plastic mask (it certainly smelled like it). Even more steam vapored from his face, or whatever was left of it because as it cleared, the angel boy had turned into a horrid creature. His pretty face had morphed into a coal-burned, wrinkly mask, as dry and rough as the bark of a tree, his curly locks were replaced by black, twisted horns spiking out of his skull and his hypnotizing eyes were now two burning red orbs glaring at the tattooed guy.

"Prepare to meet your demise, shadowhunter" his voice was scratchy and fiendish, like chalk scratching against a blackboard.

The tattooed boy, the shadowhunter, remained calm at the threats of this creature. He leaped into the air again, jumping higher than an average person should be able to. He began attacking, thrusting into the air to deliver curt and quick attacks, he moved as flexibly as a cat, thrashing his short blade through the creature while avoiding its own vicious attacks. This whole scene looked like something from a Spiderman film and Lance was absolutely terrified.

He wanted to get up, crawl back into the club and leave as fast as he could so he could go home and pretend that none of these had ever happened. Because, this, what he was currently seeing, could not be happening, not in real life. God, why was he always on the receiving end of the world's freakishness? Hadn't he gone through enough, already?

The creature let out a hair-rising screech of pain. The shadowhunter's blade had pierced through the side of his neck. He plunged it out, and a waterfall of black tar cascaded down from the wound. The creature's limbs started disappearing and dissolving into grey dust when, finally there was nothing left of it. Not even an ounce of black blood.

Lance watched as the boy tucked the small blade back into his thigh holster, his attention turning to him as he approached him. Unconsciously, Lance attempted to crawl back, pressing himself even harder against the wall.

"Are you hurt?" he could hear the panting in his voice from the intense fight with…whatever that creature was.

Lance shook his head, still unable to fathom what had just happened to him.

"Can you get up?" he carried on.

Lance pressed a hand against the wall and focused whatever ounce of energy he was left into standing up. His legs dangerously wobbled before he had a chance to straighten himself and he lost balance, he fell forwards, but the boy was ready for him. He caught him before he fell, straightening him up and wrapping a strong arm around his waist.

"I guess that's a no" he mumbled. "Put your arm around my shoulder"

Lance didn't comply.

"What's wrong?" the boy asked, irritation lacing his voice.

What's wrong? Oh nothing at all…Lance was merely just attacked by some sort of monster that sucked him dry of energy and almost killed him and then watched a weird guy with tattoos and a blade slay that monster which dissolved into bloody dust. Nothing was wrong, nothing at all.

"I don't even know who you are…how do I know you won't…do anything, like turn into a monster and try to eat me" he managed to respond, his voice barely audible.

"I wouldn't go into all the trouble of saving you just to kill you, would I?" the boy impatiently pointed out. "And my name is Keith. I am here to help you. The thing that just attacked you is a demon…a life-sucking kind of demon. Had I not been here in time, he would have sucked all the life out of you and left you for dead."

A demon? A life-sucking demon…what the hell was going on? Lance could feel his heart beat spiralling out of control, his breathing getting more rapid. He managed to hold down his panic. He couldn't have a meltdown right now. Obligingly, he wrapped his arm around the boy's, Keith's, shoulder and let him lead him out of the alley.

They stopped outside the Chinese takeaway ship, its florescent lights blazing through the blurry glass with the faded letters reading "The Dragon's nest".

"You need to eat to get your energy back" Keith explained before Lance had a chance to question him. They stumbled into the shop, Lance still clinging onto Keith. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open and not completely lean against Keith.

There was a middle aged man behind the counter who glanced at them strangely but said nothing. He was working next to a night club, he had probably seen weirder things than a placid looking teen being carried by another bloodied, tattooed teen.

"You're here to order?" he asked.

"A large chicken lo main, please"

"That'd be 5.50 dollars"

"Do you have money, I didn't bring any."

"Back-pocket" Lance mouthed, getting dizzier by the second.

Keith lowered his arm from Lance's waist down to the back pocket of his jeans and reached for the wallet inside.

"Easy there, big guy" Lance breathed out.

Keith snorted. "You never stop, do you?" He snatched the wallet out and fumbled until he found some cash. He paid the middle-aged man and they both watched him as he retired to the kitchen.

Five minutes later, Lance was sat on the pavement of the Chinese shop, wolfing down the noodles as if he had never had food in his life before. Keith was silently sitting beside him, staring at the road as if he expected another demon to appear. Demons…Lance still couldn't swallow that part down.

"You look better now, at least you don't look like a ghost" Keith remarked.

"I always look dashing" Lance retorted, mouth full of noodles.

"Yup, you are fine" He stood up. He began to walk away.

"Wait!" Lance jumped. "Will I ever see you again?" he asked.

"If you are lucky, you won't" Keith gave him one last nod. Lance watched him walked into the empty streets, until he disappeared into the shadows.

He stood there for a second, with a finished cup of noodles in his hands before he remembered…

Hunk. Shit.


End file.
